Touching Neck
by Tysoyo Kalli
Summary: He has a sensitive spot you know. And he hates it. But of course you would know. Thats the reason you came to see me isn't it? [MikaxRaph LucixMika]


Disclaimer: Um... I don't own any of the mentioned characters, just simply barrowing them from Kaori Yuki's Angel Sanctuary. A beautiful master piece if I do say so myself.  
  
Warnings: Mild cussing; mockery; sexual intentions (nothing graphic) And a few other things.  
  
Time Line: Um... long time after Lucifer's fallin' and junk. No where really. But somewhere I guess you could say..  
  
Pairings: MichaelxRaphael; Michael+Lucifer (implied) Lucifer+Michael  
  
Title:  
  
Summary:  
  
Style: Kinda experimenting again, um... its kinda first, kinda third kinda second (talking to 'you' YOU are SOMEONE feel SPECIAL!)  
  
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He has a sensitive spot. One that would always send shivers down his spine, even if you so much as inhaled from the area. The air would grace the skin, causeing the shivers.  
  
He hates it sometimes. You know... he hated how it would make him ache sometimes. He hates how it would make him grab for the flesh just sitting there infront of him, be it someone he knows or not. Someone he cares to fuck or not. This one.. tiny... spot on his neck.  
  
When ever he would embrace someone (oh how little he does it now) , somehow that person within the embrace (though none seem to remember the boy when he would embrace others) would know to head for it. Tis insticts to go for it. Right below the ear, alittle to the back. Hair could brush it. A stray breath could stroke it. And he would ache. He hates that sensitive spot. Cause it always caused problems. Always caused mayhem within him.  
  
Caused him to want things. To need things.  
  
Why did it have to be there?  
  
Hell, even his own messed up hair could give him a rageing hard-on due to that small insigifigant part of his body. Just below the ear. Alittle behind in that creavious. Its there simply to shadow the ear. where people will put their nose when embracing tightly. Where a person, asleep next to you, curels up to. Its that dreaded.... spot.  
  
He hated the shivers from it. He hated how it would tickle in a sexual way. He hated the way his own body betrayed his promise to himself.  
  
He wanted no more.  
  
Yet, look at where he is. He's so adorable (no... is adorable the name for such a young man? ), keeping himself from shifting away. Trying to be a man about the whole situation, and yet feeling so helpless and wishing only to laugh out in agony.  
  
He hated having sensitive spots, because people go straight for them. Hell, even when they sleep! Be it the nose or the tiny strainds of hair snakeing its way up, they shall run across this place of over stimulated nerves.  
  
You know, he hates it almost as much as he hates comforting people. But by looking at him now, you wonder... then why is both happening at once?  
  
Why is he holding (could you call that holding anyways?) the man who had wond up crying away the night only to have cureld on his bed with his greateset friend he could muster. And that friend was hating that small breath of hair escaping and glancing its grace upon this small sensitive spot on his neck. Turning him on, where he wants to wake the bastard up, roll him over and fuck his has raw.  
  
But the alcohol kept him pretty passive in this case. Oh how lucky the man is who sleeps against the young man's side facing the painted scar, nuzzled tightly against that neck that the boy is damning for the tightness in his lower section of his body. Or is he lucky?  
  
What had caused him to ask over the one he promised never to ener his house once more, and load them both up with alcohol and wind up crying away everything in creation. Running his sentences together to form something untangable in the young man's mind, who is just now thinking of the talk he had with the man cureled against him.  
  
What had started all this bullshit about rape and romance? He thinks, eyes staring at the canopy of the bed (really a sheet, nothing more, thrown over in some fasion.) what had caused the bastard who never talks of himself and his worrys come spilling to the surface so quickly. And now lay in his arms?  
  
You know, he hates being in situations where he doesn't understand what the fucks going on. And you know what? He probly wouldn't understand that the man he holds proclaimed love for someone who's name was never mention but was present in the room. But neither would admit that it was said.  
  
Who knows what troubles it might bring right? Who knows anything for that matter...  
  
The older man, with stringy, stringy blonde hair (that is tickling that one spot on the other's neck and causeing that raging hard-on) murmers something in his sleep. Nothing to note, yet it makes the other wish to scream something. Shake the man and ask, 'What the fuck you talkin' bout bastard? Don;t fuckin' stay asleep and leave me in the dark with this god damn sexual erge!'  
  
But alas he wont say anything.  
  
Because that wouldn't be himself. And if that nicely placed persona is cracked for a moment, or moved alittle to see elsewhere t'will fall, you know. Of course you do. You know somehow you helped build it for him. You know that somehow... this whole scene is your fualt.  
  
But thats ok. You like knowing what they are doing, don't you? One reason why your asking me, right?  
  
What has happened? In plain terms, two men love each other so much they don't know what to do. One is sleeping do to heavily injested alchol, and the other is staring up at the stupid sheet, wondering what the fuck just happened. Why the fuck is he there, with this man's arms around my waist. Why the hell is he breathing on that one spot, that turns him on so damn much it hurts to even shift slightly?  
  
Pathetic. He should wake up the other and ask the questions, don't you agree? But then... that would be messing with fate. You see, it was fate that this was bond to happen. You know, this whole situation.  
  
And the reason why he hates that spot.  
  
Another quiet murmer and a shift from the man asleep bringing the younger wide awake man closer to him. Where he finds an.... odd (yeah... odd) feeling poking out at him.  
  
Stunned eyes turn to look at the sleeping face. Or is he really sleeping? The eyes slide open. A small sort of grin spreads across that masked face (or cracked and free face that hasn't shown much emotions...)  
  
Suddenly, his hatred for that one spot is abrutly stopped because... other.... things seem to sprout to that mind of his. Oh the mind of a teenager, truely. With the hormone levels to match no less.  
  
Wait... you don't want to know more? Its your fault you know... Your the one who shunned him. You don't want to know how he fucks the blonde haired man a new asshole?  
  
Yet, you desired to do that to him yourself didn't you? Ahh, yes... thats truely why you asked in the first place, correct?  
  
Why are you so angry for him wanting what you could not give? Its your fault you know... it truely is. Pitty. I would have begged you to have known better. But I am speaking out of turn. I should quiet myself definately.  
  
You asked to know, remember. Do not be angry at any oneof us. His romance and sexual tendencies are of none of your concern since you left him. Don't expect him to stay that way you left him just because you made empty lies. You hadn't stayed true to him why shuold he you? Why indeed...  
  
You know... he'll always hate that spot. Its because of you thats his sensitive area. The only place you'd please him at times. With just a breath or a strand of hair. It grew to need it. Now look, back fires in your face! Ha!  
  
Yes, you are correct. You came to check up not recieve a lecture from me. I am babbling. I am sorry sire for bothering you. Yes even for mocking your stupidity. I am sorry you even asked. Its your fault...  
  
Yes I'll be on my way...  
  
If you ask later, I will tell you how he fars now since he has found what you couldn't offer...  
  
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Owari....?  
  
Miguel- Um...?  
  
Kalli- Its... original.... I guess.... o0; It reminds me of Upcittiana ((an oc)), definately but I liked it Miguel. Interesting...  
  
Miguel- Um... if anyone is wondering, the 'narrator' is takling to Lucifer. I don't think I made it quit clear. Hell nothings quit clear with this piece. But, yes, I do say it was interesting to write, with Kal here helping more than usual. her and her thinking about how sensitive her damn neck is - -;;;  
  
Kalli- ^_^;; anyways.. Thank you so much for reading this! We haven't writtin anything because lately we've found oursevles in a FUCKED up book. You shoul dread it. Its called House of Leaves, and its by some guy named Zampano, with introduction and a bunch of notes by Johnny Truant. Messed up but awesome.  
  
Miguel- Umm... other insperations..... um... ^^;; Cold's Wasted Years and Rachel (Jen)  
  
Kalli- LOVE YOU JEN!! ^^;;  
  
Miguel- *rolls eyes* anyways, we're here rambling. Ain't it nice? But yeah, um... another name on that book *which you can't read more than like 5 pages without getting COMPLETELY creeped out* is Mark Z. Danielewski. I think thats the editor or something. Doesn't say.  
  
Kalli- Anyways, yes thanks to everyone else who's reading this. Please support my muse, REVIEW FOR HIM! ^_^;  
  
Miguel- its greatly appricated if you tell me what should be changed about the writting styles and shit. 


End file.
